Hell in a Nutshell
by The OddBird
Summary: Olaf has been sent to Hell after dying from an attempt at seizing the Baudelaire fortune. But how come he's the only one that's normal, will he get another chance at living? Is there really a good side to Olaf behind all the loathing? Humour, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**Woohoo! Another fic for me, I'm so gonna be bogged down now… OH WELL.**

**Please read this fic, it's humour and centering on non other that our widdle Ollie, as Shannon would put it… but anyway, on with it!**

**_Disclaimer:_ I only own what is mine, and being a lawyer you should be able to figure that out…if you can't, that's your fault and you can't sue me, because I said I didn't own what wasn't mine, so.. YEAH –sticks out tongue-**

Chapter 1

Christ his head hurt. Why couldn't he have just died without the extra dizziness? Noooo, it had to be so difficult, like Carmelita Spats.

"Couldn't have just picked the BLUE tutu" Olaf said under his breath. "God damnit I always hated that little b-

"Ahhh, tutu problems," said a voice. "We had one of those a few years back, two young woman ran and ran after each other till they collapsed, all for the tutu…"

Olaf looked around for anyone, there was nobody around, everything was pure white. Stupid voices, he meant to go see a psychiatrist… He was afraid he might strangle him, being told what to think wasn't one of his specialties. Now strangling and killing on the other hand…

But, he felt so POWERLESS and he hated not being in control, he was floating for gods sake, how typical, you die, then float around in space for a few minutes.

Floating was fun though…when he was a boy he would want to be a pilot. Gods, when he was a BOY? He had tried to forget what he was like as a boy, he had actually given an **APPLE **to his teacher, and he was good looking! Not that he wasn't good looking now of course…

If he could only move… he tried, he was frozen in the same moronic position, talk about looking like Michael Jackson. He wondered if he had to go to the washroom before he died, that would explain the hand positioning…

He was pissed (A/N: Not LITERALLY pissed, the pissed as in MAD). "Ok, what the HELL?

A split second later, he landed with a thud on an earthy surface. There was no more bright white, but to replace it was red, and different colours. Oranges, browns, reds…some different shades of reds, and Oohh! Look over there MORE RED. **EVERYTHING** was the same creepy autumn shades, it was almost too much to bear. He seemed to be on some sort of dirt patch, littered with, uhg, bones. Human or not, there was still meat on them, he looked away, upwards. There were spiraling paths leading up as far as he could see. Looking around, he saw other people, most lugging around burlap sacks or wooden wagons, others just sitting near large rocks

Worst thing was that it all looked like a HUGE . FRICKIN . MOUNTAIN. Nothing against mountains, they were actually quite nice, it was just the fact that he had fallen off one, to his death.

Ok, it was true, he didn't die from Carmelita and a blue tutu, he had died in an attempt to capture the Baudelaires and their fortune, at the top of cliff on SheepVille Mountain. He wasn't about to let anyone know that, not that he'd need to tell anyone, wherever he was. He may not even be able to see the earth again, if he was where he thought he was.

He wouldn't be missing his acquaintances, eh, they were all morons anyway. And he would never miss that nerd Klaus or the biting monster, but Violet was so pretty… He sighed. No more fantasies about him and Violet running off into the sunset…

He looked around at all the people sitting around on their lazy arses. Most were very short and pale looking. It was time he shot some questions into them.

Olaf stood up, his bones cracking, and casually made his way to one of the rocks, where a scary looking man leaned against. Standing in front of him in a threatening way, he spoke.

"So, is this some bad impression of hell?"he said staring at him with those awful shiny eyes.

The mans face was emotionless, and he stayed silent, not even looking up to face the man speaking to him.

"Well" said Olaf, his voice rising. "Are you going to answer me?"

Silence.

This man must really have some nerve. If he had a weapon with him, Olaf would have killed him right there (if it was possible), then maybe some of the others would start speaking. Considering he didn't have a weapon, he continued. He towered over the man.

"Basturd, ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

But then something caught his eye. A pitchfork was propped up on the rock next to the man, so shiny and evil looking, smooth and wanting. One thought was on his mind,

_Cha Ching_….

Quickly he grabbed the pitchfork and ran, feeling it in his hands, it was quite hot, and what the heck was it mad of? It wasn't aluminum, metal or wood… Mmm, but it **WAS** smooth, good for killing. If only he had gone into farm land and stolen one of these before he started hunting down the Baudelaires. He wondered if there was some sort of place he could sell it, it was new looking, and light, perhaps there was some Ebay of the Down under.

He stopped to catch his breath. He had worked his way up one of the open spiraling passages. He looked down to the man who he'd stolen the pitchfork from, he still hadn't moved an inch, what was HIS problem? There were people passing him, backs hunched, walking slowly. Nobody stopped, nobody had even looked at him, it was as if he wasn't even there. What was wrong with everyone? He was positive he was in hell. He had a little chuckle inside his head, yeah, like I'd be sent to the OTHER place, he thought. He just needed to know,

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

------!-!--------!-!-!--!----

**Ok, first chapter, so how is it? Flames are unwanted, constructive critism would be nice, what do YOU think going to happen next? – evil grin- I know mwhaha, er, sorry… but please Review : ) Make my day.**

**(And that wasn't a sarcastic comment, funny or nice reviews always make my day.)**

_Yours till I waddle…like a penguin,_

.:The OddBird:.


	2. Chapter 2

**And the second chapter… I hope you all liked the first one, just so you all know, of a rough chapter count, I would say this fic will have 10 chapters, but that's a rough guess, there may be more, or even less.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own…it –struggles to say words- it … belongs to…Daniel Handler…**

Chapter 2

Olaf stood there, a bit confused, but satisfied. He had stolen some dead person's pitchfork, now if only he could find somebody else he could sell it to…He could make a living off of it, how fun.

He started walking up the nauseating spiraling pathways. He had slight motion sickness, which he found very embarrassing, His other colleagues would sometimes laugh when he had to stop the black car and run to a ditch on the side of the road. That was one reason why he didn't like them anymore. No tears were falling if they had died too.

Where was he supposed to go? One thing for sure was that he defiantly wasn't going to be lugging around those damned bags or wagons.

He wondered if he should try talking to somebody, a DIFFERENT person. He wanted a word with the "boss' around here.

A ghostly man was passing Olaf, pulling a wagon. Olaf tripped the man, making him fall to the ground with a thud. He raided the wagon, looking for anything juicy, all that was in it where burlap sacks of ashes.

"So, is there-" he kicked the man, "A reason why you're carrying around these ashes?" said Olaf

The man, to Olafs surprise, looked up. His eyes were pure black, and creepy, even to Olaf, who was the kind that would kill anybody in the wink of an eye.

After staring at the man for a second, he continued.

"Where's the head honcho in this dump, and you better talk, I have a pitchfork you know." He said holding it up, attempting to be threatening.

The man stared at him for what seemed like minutes, before he slowly brought his hand up and pointed straight north. Olafs eyes followed his hand and he strained to see what he was pointing at. Up, far up, almost naked to the human eye, was a dark, dark red platform. Where the spirals ended, the platform began. He couldn't see what was on it, but he guessed it was some important person. Well that important person was going to get a little talking to.

Olaf, without helping the man back up, started running around the paths, pushing all the stunned weird people out of the way, determined to get to the top before anyone could stop and question him. He was quite sure nobody would, he realized that it wasn't just a few, it was everyone that had dark circles and zombified looks on their faces.

About an hour later, he was still working his way up. He had stopped running long ago, the fact that he had long legs did help, but he was so slim that his bones gave up on him quickly. So now he was stuck walking, fairly tired, a bit motion sick, but nothing too serious.

He looked ahead and saw a pile of broken wooden boards. He guessed that at one time, this had been a wagon or at least an attempt at one. He considered sitting down and resting, but he was getting closer now. The fastest way out of there was his first choice, and the fastest way was talking to, yelling, perhaps killing, the person in charge.

"Ha…"thought Olaf. " Killing… Happy thoughts …"

He started walking a bit faster, a bit cheerier at the thought of someone dying, when someone crashed into him, head-on.

The count fell to the ground, not in pain, a bit of a sore arse. Whoever had just ran into him had hell to pay. He sat up, rolling off the other person's leg.

The man who had run into him groaned, sitting up. Olaf immediately placed the pitchfork right above the mans heart.

"What the fu-"

"Any sudden moves and I drop this right on your - wait, did you just talk?"

The man stared at Olaf wildly.

"Uh, yeah, nice pitchfork by the way."

Olaf being cautious only withdrew the pitchfork from his chest a little bit. "Thanks, now why the hell did you just ram into me like that?"

The man looked around to make sure nobody was near by before he replied.

"Some creeps are trying to capture me, they chased me all the way from that

balcony up there, I think I lost them though. But anyway, why are **YOU** here?"

Olaf now took the pitchfork away, holding it at his side. "I fell off a cliff and died, but now I'm trying to murder the guy that owns this place, and sell this pitchfork."

The man tutted. "What a way to go…I got the death penalty, attempted murder of the president." He sighed. "By the way, you can't sell stuff down here, theres no currency…and I'm sure that mad red guy on that platform wouldn't allow it. But I got a U.S. dollar still in my pocket, I still had it when I got killed, why they didn't take it, I have no clue. It's all I have and I have a feeling I'll need to defend myself soon."

Olaf took a minute to consider it, then agreed and they exchanged, just as yelling voices were heard. They both turned to look behind them, where two pale men were running towards them.

"Oh shit" said the man. "Gotta run, see ya."

Olaf moved aside as the two ghostly people ran by him, speeding after the one man. Olaf didn't really care if that guy was going to get killed, he had his money, and that was all that mattered.

Obviously he had been up to the platform already. He had said something about a red man. A red man…the kind with the triangle tail and pointy ears.

Olaf shrugged. A bit stereotypical, but hey, the legends had to come from somewhere.

He again started walking up, it'd only take him a bit longer before he'd reach the balcony and meet this "little red man."

UT$#()(&$#!$$&()+-------

**-wheezes- Arg, I have a HORRIBLE cough… -coughs- And I had to take this funny (AND REALLY NASTY) tasting cough syrup…Ew.**

**I hope you like this chapter, now take some time and tell me what you think about it, and what YOU think will happen next. I may use some of your ideas… -evil grin- will your permission…of course…hehe –shifty eyed-**

_Yours until woodpeckers peck my eyes out,_

.:The OddBird:.


	3. Chapter 3

**And yahoo, another chapter. It's been like 5 MILLION YEARS since I updated. I don't even know if people will read/review it anymore. So if you are reading this, please review and let me know because I want to know I'm not updating for nothing . **

**Ok, yeah, I'm done now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that isn't mine, makes sense, right?**

Chapter 1

Olaf was clueless to how long he had been hiking, but he felt he could collapse any moment. If you think a cremator had it bad, Olaf had seen every possible human body part through the hours he'd been walking over them. It wasn't as though he'd never seen dead things before…if only the world knew…but he'd never really sorted through the body parts before, he was quite skilled at throwing them in lakes though.

He tried to walk slower, but he couldn't take it anymore, and fell on top of a pile of smoothed bones. He sat there for a minute in silence, looking down to where he had first started his climb. The people down there looked small and he could no longer see the black lumps under their eyes. He closed his own eyes, letting his mind settle.

Only a few moments after, a grumbling lurch of his stomach broke his peace. And it was then when he realized how long he hadn't eaten for. He looked longingly and the bones around him, some still did have meat and flesh on them.

_Cannibal…_said a voice in his head.

No, he said to himself. He wasn't going to become a Cannibalistic; he wasn't that desperate…yet.

So, he used his legs to sweep away the stray bones that taunted him, and tilted his head up, closing them for a few moments.

_Ah god, how did I get myself into this…_

_Oh yeah, damn Baudelaires…_

He reopened his eyes, and stood up quickly in shock. Right above his head was not another floor of a spiraling path, or excess bones dangling around. Right above his head, was the red platform.

He was half excited, half nervous. According to the man he'd met earlier, there was some bad-tempered red guy up here. And that man had been running from friends of the red man. Olaf was going to be a bit safer, he wasn't about to be destined as a zombie person forever, like the others.

He walked a bit further up the path, where there was land sloping upwards, which led straight onto the platform grounds. He crept silent beside the slope, and peered above it.

There were two men standing, guarding the entrance with some sort of staff. They looked identical, if not the same to the people chasing after the buyer of his pitchfork. He now regretted selling it to him, he probably could have used at this stage.

Olaf couldn't see anything past the men, there was no way to know what lay beyond, he'd just have to take a chance. He gathered up his courage in one breath, and stepped towards the men.

As soon as they saw him come towards them, staffs were held up and pointed at him.

"I want to talk to the ruler of this place, or whatever you call him."

They both stared at him for an awfully long time. Olaf stared back, with impatience in his eyes.

"Anytime today…"

One suddenly put up his staff, and Olaf was surprised as a little shock came out of it and flew over top of the gate. After a few minutes, the shock came back, and the two men stepped aside, allowing Olaf to enter.

As he stepped forward, he glanced cautiously at the two men, making sure they weren't just tricking him, and had set up arrows to shoot at him as soon as he walked in, like in the old action movies. The men only pointed past the gate, so Olaf took their word, and proceeded forward.

The place was GIGANTIC! The size of at least 4 football fields. Ahead of him was a lumpy red wall. No doors or anything.

Odd, he thought. Why would they send him into a huge empty room?

He started feeling against the walls. Maybe they were trying to play dumb with him… make him lose his mind or something. He chuckled to himself. Him, lose his mind… naw.

He poked the wall, and immediately drew back his hand.

It was _squishy._

He looked at his hands, expecting the redness to be all over them. It wasn't, but the feeling clung onto him. He stared at the wall again, then at the couch beside it, and screamed.

The couch wasn't a couch, it was 5 toes. The five toes were attached to a huge foot, attached to what he _thought _was a wall. It was actually a leg. His eyes moved upwards (and closed very quickly at one part) and kept going up until they reached the grinning face of a very, _very_ large (naked may he add) red man.

He could only stare.

The man chuckled; he was so red it hurt to look at him. He was so high Olaf could barely see his face, and he was holding the most deadliest looking pitchfork, higher than a house, wider than a telephone pole.

Olaf finally found words, and spoke, trying to sound tougher to make up for the size difference. "Ok, tough guy, I wanna know how to get out of this dump, I wanna know fast."

The man smiled down at him for a bit, then reached down and pushed him softly sending Olaf tumbling across the room. He then bent down and said to him,

"I'm the devil little man. And I have a really big pitchfork."

That was when Olaf realized how much shit he was really in. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The red man easily swooped him up.

"So, still want to smart mouth me?"

Olaf shook his head frantically. It was better to act scared, and have a chance at escaping.

"So my small human friend, ever wonder why these bones are littered all around here?"

Olaf stayed silent.

"Well," said the man, as his moved his trident closer and closer to Olaf's body. "I think it's time to find out."

Oh great, thought Olaf. He's going to kill me. _Sigh._ Oh well, second times a charm.

The last thing he saw before everything was lost was that dark, dark red, coming straight for him.

!#&)&$#!$&&$$#$!#$!$$&

**O0o0o0o0oo! What's going to happen now? Haha, you still don't know! But I dooo! Because I'm evil like that. So, I hope you liked this chapter, please review!**

_Yours until turkeys escape from my pants,_

.:The OddBird:.


	4. Chapter 4

**GUESS WHO'S BACK. After, what? Almost a year of not updating. Hehe, whoops. Well I AM back now, bow down to me etc. etc.**

**Actually, don't, that'd be weird.**

**Anyway. I'll have to think of a special disclaimer for my coming back-ness…**

**Disclaimer: I like pizza, I like pie, sue my ass, and be prepared to die. Oh, and I don't own it.**

**Readers: Dude, that was so cheesy…**

**Me: Zip it.**

Chapter 4

Olaf awoke, startled, and pissed. He didn't open his eyes, in fear of what lay before him, but he thought to himself. He had gotten himself killed _again_? What the hell? Was that even possible?

He heard laughter. It almost scared him at first. There was no laughter in hell. Curiosity overpowering fear, he opened his eyes, and immediately shut them. He groaned, no…it couldn't be possible. He wouldn't believe it.

"Glad to see you're awake, Olaf."

Olaf reopened his eyes. A very tall, winged creature – he couldn't say the word – was floating near his head, looking down at him. It looked quite happy. It made Olaf want to vomit.

The angel offered a hand.

"You don't have to be afraid Olaf, we're all friends here."

Olaf slapped the hand away and got up himself. Stupid angel…stupid heaven.

"Why…am I here, moron," asked Olaf, looking around in disgust, rubbing his aching head.

"Why, you belong here!" said the angel. "Come take a walk with me, I'll explain it all to you. By the way, call me John."

Olaf eyed him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I'll stay here, thanks."

The smile faded from the angel's face. _Goddamn dead people._

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he said, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, their surroundings changed. They were on a country road, Olaf knew where and what this was, even before he saw himself, crouching behind a bush.

"This is you, Olaf," said John solemnly. "Two months ago."

"I know, shuddup!" yelled Olaf, watching the scene before him intently. "I want to see this."

John sighed, but didn't say another word.

They only had to wait a few seconds. Soon, a middle-aged man walked down the path, coming closer to Olaf by the second. Right when it looked as though he was going to pass Olaf without any trouble, the tall Count leaped out from the bush, a shiny axe held in his hand, and pounced on the poor man.

Olaf watched this all, through his shiny, greedy eyes.

"I look so happy," he said, actually smiling.

"Yes," said the angel, sarcastically. "I'm sure hacking people to death brings a smile to everyone's face. Did you know that man had a wife and three children?"

"Really?" said Olaf, turning to John. "Damn! I could have killed them too!"

John stared. Maybe this was a mistake…

"Can we watch more?" said Olaf, all his anger gone. If anything cheered him up, it was killing.

"Of course," said John, narrowing his bright blue eyes. He snapped his fingers again. Olaf turned to him, glaring.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't bring me back here!"

John wanted to smile in satisfaction, but he knew he was being monitored. He needed the job; he had a family to support. _Stupid no good wife…_

They were in hell, right back where Olaf had started. The _exact_ place he started. He could even see the man who he had stolen the pitchfork from. After a second of looking around, he could also see the man who he had _sold_ the pitchfork to. Not surprisingly, he was hanging by his neck, dead. The pitchfork was sticking out of his abdomen.

Without acknowledging anyone else in his way, Olaf strolled to where the man was hanging, kicking anyone in his way. He looked at the man, square in the face, his shiny eyes level with the dead mans lifeless ones because of his height.

"That's what you get for taking my pitchfork, jackass."

Olaf reached out, grabbing the handle of the pitchfork and tugging it out of the mans body, holding it proudly. Now he had the guys money, and pitchfork. Without looking back, he strode over to where John was.

"I'm keeping this pitchfork, by the way."

Johns wings glowed as he answered, "Heaven's a peaceful place Olaf. Besides, you can't kill anyone there like you can here."

There was a glint in Olaf's eye. He was getting ideas.

"So I could stab you right now and it wouldn't hurt?"

John floated a little higher. "I'd prefer it if you didn't…"

Olaf rolled his eyes.

"So can we leave now?"

"Almost," said John. "I need you to take a good look around Olaf. This is what you're leaving, and this is where you could come back to."

Olaf turned on him. "You can send people back?"

John, again, restrained grinning mischievously.

"If it's necessary."

_Shit_ thought Olaf. "Ok, ok, I've looked around at my surroundings, or whatever bullshit you just said. Can we leave yet?"

Sighing, John snapped his fingers.

They were back on the same cloud, but now there was a very, very large gate in front of them. As high as a building at least.

"Personally, Olaf," said John, from beside him, now floating behind a podium with papers stacked on it. "I don't think you're ready for heaven, but your detour time is up. Now it's time for you to proceed through the Gates of Heaven."

"Wait," said Olaf. "So that bullshit was all to try and teach me to be a better person?"

"Well," said John. "Yes, but it obviously didn't work."

Olaf could have laughed. "You guys are morons."

John restrained himself, forcing out a smile instead.

"If you have any more questions, feel free to ask," said John, looking down at the list in front of him. I'll be here all year, my boss pays me by the month. I have another appointment now, but enjoy your stay in heaven, Olaf. You _will _learn to love."

And without another word, he snapped his fingers. The gates opened.

Scowling at John one last time, Olaf walked through the gates. There was no cheery people floating around, as Olaf had imagined, it was still just clouds. Olaf turned around questioningly.

John was floating there at the podium, smiling at him.

"Goodbye Olaf!"

Olaf gave him the finger, but the closing gates cut him off. He was left with the image of John grinning. Cursing, he turned back around, and froze at what he saw.

**Well, there it is. If anyone is actually still reading this, sorry for the long delay, I bet I've lost all my reviewers now If anyone is still there, please review and tell me how it was. After not updating for like…ever, it took me a while to get back into the pissed off/PMS Olaf mood thing, but I think I did ok. You got some profanity, you got some Olaf flicking people off, lmao, it's all good. Sorry for not having a line up there -points to where the bolding starts- but the line button isn't working.**

**Thankies everyone who reviewed last chapter, and all the new reviewers, hope to hear from you!**

_Yours until my rooster lays rainbow eggs,_

The OddBird


End file.
